


*boop*

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [6]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Red Nose Day, Red Nose Day USA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Hiddleston and his girlfriend get up to some trouble, fueled by a little jealousy and maybe a red nose, at the Art Institute of Chicago.</p><p>Yes, this was inspired by Red Nose Day US.</p>
            </blockquote>





	*boop*

I honestly wasn't thinking about trying to please anybody but myself when I got dressed for work this morning.

This third week of May in Chicago was unseasonably cool, but I was used to it. Like any Chicagoan who knew better, I wouldn't be putting away my sweaters and fall jackets until at least the second weekend of June.

It was a perfect day to meet Tom after work and take him to the Art Institute. [The museum stays open late on Thursdays](http://www.artic.edu/visit), so the time seemed right for some art, a walk through Millennium Park while drinking whiskey from the flask I'd tuck into my purse, and then maybe, just maybe, I'd let him get to second base in the cab back to my place.

My place, where I'd let him bang me silly, of course.

I decided to wear a variation of my daily uniform which, being 36, is not that much different from the girls' school uniform I rocked at 16. Black sweater, single pearl on a thin gold chain around my neck, black pleated skirt, tights, Mary Jane shoes. The only difference between my teen uniform and my grown-ass lady uniform being the sweater is cashmere now instead of lambswool, the pearl on my neck is real, and [the shoes are Manolo Blahnik knockoffs](http://bit.ly/1LpOHrl) instead of Doc Martens. My hair is still prone to frizzing and puffing on damp days so I pulled it up into a pony tail with a black ribbon.

The tights are still the same, though. Black Hue tights bought in bulk from Macy's. Only today none of the Hue tights were acceptable. They were laddered or too stained to be tidied with a Shout wipe or the crotch was totally blown out. My only option, tights-wise, was a pair of cotton thigh highs I usually wore to bed at night with a ratty gray sweatshirt turned inside out.

I looked at myself in the full length mirror on my closet door before I left the house. As long as I didn't take huge steps, the skirt wouldn't flip up so much that everybody would see my bare thighs as I made my way to the bus stop, or around the office, or up and down Michigan Avenue.

But would it be so awful if they did?

I guess, I thought as I locked up and made my way out into the world, there was only one way to find out.

* * *

The skirt stayed in place for the day. It wasn't until I walked down Michigan Avenue to the museum, where Tom said he'd meet me on the steps, that the skirt began to misbehave.

She (yes, my skirt is a girl) kept jumping up in front as I walked, baring the fronts of my thighs. My jacket only went down as far as my hips so I had nothing to keep the skirt in line. But then there were these cute sailors, no doubt from the [Great Lakes Naval base](http://www.bootcamp.navy.mil/) up north, who smiled at me as I pranced past. They couldn't have been older than 20. A tourist with cool glasses winked at me when I helped him and his girlfriend with directions to the nearest Giordano's. I could hear her swearing at him as I took off.

And then there was Reuben.

Reuben was a former co-worker, a decent guy who was always the first person to lean in for a hug. I ran into him in front of one of the lion statues that stand guard outside the museum. I didn't see Tom yet so I figured I could stop and say hi.

"My love!" Reuben called out to me, then whistled as I walked up to meet him. "Girl, check out those Manolos!"

I pecked him twice, once on each cheek. "They're knock-offs!" I hissed in his ear.

"So? Don't nobody care as long as they look good!" Reuben laughed, then took my hand, lifted my arm above my head and twirled me.

"Excuse me? Miss?" Reuben looked me in the eye when he stopped me. "Those tights?"

"What, Reuben? It's co-old." I whined.

"Well, it was probably warm back at whatever reform school for teenage jezebels you just escaped from."

"Oh!" I chirped. "You said teenage!"

Reuben rolled his eyes at me. "Girl please."

He leaned in for a hug, rubbing my back as he did. "You are entirely too much, and I am entirely too late to meet the husband for another fun night spent eating as many free samples as we can at Whole Foods."

I kissed him again. "Tell Gabe I said hello. And please let's get a drink soon. Anywhere is fine, as long as it's not Sidetrack on Sunday, okay?"

"But that's Sunday Funday! Showtunes!" Reuben pouted.

"Yes but every time I go in there I always get mistaken for Margaret Cho!"

"Oh to be mistaken for a hot Asian lady comic with fierce tattoos! Poor you!" Reuben pretended to sob, before we both burst out laughing.

"Girl, BYE!"

Another kiss, and he got into a cab.

I spun around and looked for Tom on the steps. He was at the top, standing in a doorway, arms folded across his chest. He looked... not happy.

I jogged up the steps to greet him. He gave me his cheek when I went up on my toes to kiss him.

"Okay, what gives?" I tried to sound stern but I couldn't. I was still too giddy from seeing Reuben.

"That's a nice skirt you got on there." Tom sounded tight when he said this.

"Really?" I replied, perhaps a bit blithely. "I hadn't noticed."

"And surely they make tights that cover your whole leg?"

"Oh my god, really? Mister, you are..." I scoffed. "Dude, I am an actual grown woman and I can wear what I want."

"Did you wear it for him?"

"What? For who?" I couldn't keep the impatience out of my voice.

"That man. Your dancing partner, out on the sidewalk."

"Reuben? My former co-worker who I haven't seen in a year?"

Tom nodded.

"No, you dork. I wore this, like I wear everything else, for me. And Reuben happened to love it."

Tom clenched his jaw.

"And I'm sure that, if he were here, Gabe, Reuben's HUSBAND, would have loved it, too." I bit the inside of my cheek. "Not that something like that should even matter."

I wanted to stay mad but then I saw Tom's eyes soften.

"Aw, darling, I'm so sorry."

"Oh don't you 'darling'..." I sighed. "Never mind, come here." I put my arms around his neck, then pulled him in for a kiss.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. He pulled back to look at me. Despite looking down, he still appeared worshipful and adoring. There he was. My sweet Tom. "It's just, we haven't seen each other in a while and I really missed you."

I took his hands in mine, pressing my lips to his knuckles as I murmured. "Yeah. I just missed your attention, having you around." I opened his right hand to kiss his palm.

"Aw, sweet..." Tom whispered in my ear. "You sure you want to go in? I mean, my hotel is only just up Michigan Avenue..."

"Mmm. Soon. Very soon." I purred. "But there's something I want to show you first. Come on." I nodded my head towards the door, which Tom opened for me, and we walked in together.

* * *

Gallery 109 is my favorite place in Chicago, probably the world. It was designed by a famous Japanese architect, who created the space just for the museum.

The room is dark, the only light coming from the two display cases the line the right and far walls that face you as you walk in. When you walk in, you are greeted by a grid of sixteen wood columns. They stand guard, intimidating visitors into silence. Yes, even chatterboxes like me.

I took Tom to one of two benches that in the far left corner, seating him in the middle before I sat on his right.

"This is nice," Tom whispered. "It's so quiet and dark."

"It was better when there were these tinted glass doors. Really kept the noise out." I nodded toward the doorway, where a guard passed without seeing us.

"Why would they take the doors off?" Tom mused.

"Probably," I whispered, "to stop people from doing things like this."

I took Tom's right hand in mine, then placed it carefully on my bare left thigh. I parted my legs slightly.

He rubbed me, gently, then trailed his fingers up and into my inner thigh. I gasped when he swiftly found my slit, so wet with anticipation, and began to tease it with his fingers.

"Forgive me?" I rasped.

"What's there to forgive?" Tom growled.

I wanted to look down, enjoy the sight of his hand covering my sex as his fingers teased me. But I wanted to see his face, so I turned to see that he had dropped his head back, to rest on the wall behind. He turned his head to face me, opening his eyes as he did.

I smiled at him.

"Hey, angel." I whispered.

"Hey." Tom bit his lip.

We moaned together as I arched my back in response to him slipping a single finger inside of me. He used the heel of his hand to press against my mound first, then rub against my clit, which was swollen and begging to be teased.

I rolled my hips, which gave Tom a chance to roll his finger inside me, hooking it so he brushed against my G-spot.

"Shit. Oh shit. Tom, I don't know if I can..."

I breathed deeper, louder, but still kept my eyes open and fixed on his beautiful face. It was so dark, so still, but I could still see his eyes shining at me. I kept arching, then tightened around him.

Did my pussy think by clenching around Tom's hand that this would stop him, and the sweet agony of his ministrations? No, it just wanted more because I desired it. I wanted the friction, I craved the heat we were making in that dark little room.

I kept my focus by gazing on Tom's face, delighting in the way his brow crumpled and his mouth moved as his fingers continued to pump into me.

"Babe, I don't think I can... oh shit oh shit... I think I'm gonna." I whimpered, mindful that at any minute someone could find world famous actor Tom Hiddleston two knuckles deep inside my tight pussy.

I could see the headlines now: "International heartthrob found resuscitating area spinster's aged genitals."

(My head tends to go to weird places when I'm on the verge of orgasm.)

"Come on, love." Tom's words were all I needed to let go, letting a nice, warm wave of bliss come over me. First in my sex then out, down my legs, through my back and shoulders, out of my chest.

I slipped my hand down the front of Tom's trousers. Poor thing - he was about to bust himself. I chuckled as I began to massage him, quickening the pace when I used the pre-cum leaking from his dick to lubricate my palm. I licked the side of his neck, then began to suck as my hand moved faster and faster, squeezing as I went. This was no time to be artful. Tom silently begged for release, and here I was to rescue him.

"Baby, that's right. Yes. Oh shit, you're so big in my hand." I moaned.

"Oh god. Yes. Yes. Fuck yes. Fuck. Yeah!" Tom moaned. "Keep talking."

"Shit, babe, it's so hard and fuck! I can barely handle it with just my little hand. Maybe if I start kissing it..." I moaned.

"Fuck! I gotta, oh shit. Yes, baby, just like that. Oh god. Yeah. Yeah!" Tom groaned, and then came. I could feel his cum, sticking in my hand. His hips jerked and bucked underneath my touch.

I loved it.

Tom smiled weakly. "Sorry about that, love. It just..."

I kissed his ear. "No worries. Fastest hand in the Midwest."

He chuckled, then looked down at me. "How do we..."

"In my bag... there's a packet of wipes."

Tom leaned down to find my bag on the floor, and found the wipes soon enough. Taking one, he reached into his trousers to clean my hand first, then his dick and inner thighs.

"Hand me the wipe." He did and I put it in the plastic grocery bag I had tucked in my coat pocket.

"You seem awfully prepared today." Tom curled his eyebrow at me.

"Who me? I just always happen to have a Walgreen's bag on me. You never know when you might need to carry home wet socks, or give it to a friend to clean up after their dog, or..."

"Clean yourself off after you and your man bring each other off in a semi-private gallery at a world class art museum?"

"Something like that." I shrugged.

Tom laughed, then handed me my purse. I tied the Walgreen's bag shut then tucked it in so I could get rid of it later. From the purse, I pulled out the red nose I always seemed to have on me. I smiled when I remembered the last time I'd worn it.

"Hey is that my nose?" Tom smiled.

"Yes, dear."

Tom took the nose from me, then gently placed it on the tip of mine.

"How do I look?" I asked.

"Perfect. Just perfect." He whispered. "I love you."

"Good!" I crowed.

Tom laughed.

"Oh, alright. I guess I love you, too." I admitted. "So what do you think?"

Tom tapped the red nose. "Boop!"

I giggled.

He kissed the red nose. "Boop!"

I giggled again.

He kissed me on the lips, licking the seam with his tongue so I opened my mouth to him.

"Boop!" Another kiss. "Boop!" And another.

"Boop!"


End file.
